User blog comment:Biggren/The Silvir Conquest/@comment-7207319-20140610201540/@comment-3135907-20140804205933

OOC: In a cliche, ridiculous manner, Grist's sword cuts the stout, firm staff as though it were merely plowing through streamwater, continuing on its present course toward the squirrel's head, which parts from Astrix's shoulders as though his neck were only a piece of string connecting head and body.

No. Grist's sword bounces off the hardened wood of the staff, causing both his and Astrix's paws to vibrate painfully from the impact. Hopping backward, the rat turns to see the otter, now finished dispensing with the last mouse, bolt toward him with jaw set grimly in determination and eyes glinting with battle fire. "Graah!" Grist spits angrily as he whips around and runs into the surrounding woodland.